You don’t see it much anymore, but when sports teams used to be really bad, fans would wear paper bags over their heads during games. They were at the game, but ashamed of their team and didn’t want anyone to know who they were.

Jesus did many miracles and amazed people daily. No one saw this more than His disciples. They were front-row fans, so to speak. One day, Jesus told them that if they truly believed who He was, they would not be ashamed of Him and His message. Like the fans of old, one of His disciples, Peter, became ashamed of Jesus to the point of publicly denying Him—not once, but three times!

How do we pray about our sports lives? Do we regularly talk with God about each situation or just when things seem out of control? Which kind of prayer does God hear well? My answer may be surprising. It’s exciting to me that God doesn’t discriminate between my weakest prayers of panic and my most serene prayers of thanksgiving.

As a young coach I had a sign on my office door: “Rules for Our Program. Rule 1. The Coach is always right. Rule 2. If you think the coach is wrong, see Rule 1.” My players always thought that was funny and, remarkably, true most days. Throughout athletics, rules govern the game. Our lives are no different.

A successful gymnast has rhythm, confidence, and a strong body—but most vitally, power and control. With power, a gymnast can whip her body around a bar to gain momentum for a dismount. She can vault herself high enough over an apparatus to flip and twist her body in the air. She can leap off the ground and complete numerous harrowing tumbling passes during a floor routine. Power is important to these young athletes.

Hockey Chat:  You don’t hear of penalties given for blocking the goalies view even though they hate when someone stands in front of them “screening” and then a puck trickles in unseen.  There is no rule in the rule book about that therefore it’s an OK tactic.  The goalie would like to make up that rule but if everyone got to write up their own rules for the book the game would be a mess.

One of the earliest lessons I learned in competition was that no one came to our home field and defeated our team in front of our family and friends. It was always motivating to deny the visiting team victory on our turf. There’s something special about being the home team. Teams now have slogans like “Not in our house!” and “Not in our backyard!” There is a responsibility to secure and protect home-field advantage.

Every competitive athlete is looking for an edge: a way to get faster—shave seconds off his/her time, get stronger, or jump higher. We know our performance depends on it.

In training, athletes often wear a weighted vest as they go through their drills, helping them push beyond their normal limits. The additional stress to their body in a controlled environment prepares them for the intense demands of competition. When the vest comes off, these athletes feel invincible. They are faster, stronger, and more agile. It is like a prisoner has been freed.

I once heard of a pitcher who was nervous about starting a play-off game. The position players were steering clear of him, and the pitching coach was at his wits end over the pitcher’s behavior. The head coach finally got wind of what was going on and marched down to the clubhouse to talk to the pitcher. He looked the pitcher in the eye and said, “Son, either change your behavior, or change out of your uniform!”